seemed to
dance in their many facets. Then the afterglow died suddenly. The
flames ceased to dance. Helen's white garments turned livid, her neck
and bosom gray--and that, somehow, was extremely unpleasing to Madame
de Vallorbes.

"Light the candles," she said, almost sharply. "Yes, I remain. Do
hurry, Zelie. It is impossible to see. I detest darkness. Hurry. Do you
suppose I want to stay here all night? And look--you must bring that
chain further forward. It is not graceful. Make it droop. Let it follow
the line of my hair so that the pendant may fall there, in the centre.
You have it too much to the right. The centre--the centre--I tell you.
There, let the drop just clear my forehead."

Thus admonished the French woman wound the jewels in her mistress'
hair. But Madame de Vallorbes remained dissatisfied. The day had been
one of uncertainty, of conflicting emotions, and Helen's love of
unqualified purposes was great. Confusion in others was highly
diverting. But in herself--no thank you! She hated it. It touched her
self-confidence. It endangered the absoluteness of her self-belief and
self-worship. And these once shaken, small superstitions assaulted her.
In trivial happenings she detected indication of ill-luck. Now Zelie's
long, narrow face, divided into two unequal portions by a straight bar
of black eyebrow, and her lean hands, as reflected in the mirror, awoke
unreasoning distrust. They appeared to be detached from the woman's
dark-clothed person, the outlines of which were absorbed in the
increasing dimness of the room. The sallow face moved, peered, the
hands clutched and hovered, independent and unrelated, about Helen's
graceful head.

"For pity's sake, more candles, Zelie!" she repeated. "You look
absolutely diabolic in this uncertain light."

"In an instant, madame. I am compelled first to fix this curl in
place."

She accomplished the operation with most admired deliberation, and
moved away more than once, to observe the effect, before finally
adjusting the hairpin.

"I cannot but regret that madame is unable to wear her hair turned back
from the face. Such an arrangement confers height and an air of
spirituality, which, in madame's case, would be not only becoming but
advantageous."

Helen skidded the hand-glass down upon the dressing-table, causing
confusion amid silver-topped pots and bottles, endangering a jar of
hyacinths, upsetting a tray of hairpins.

"Have I not repeatedly given you orde